


Halloween Hangover

by distantstarlight



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, Halloween, Hangover, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Morning After, Prompt Fic, happy ending guarantee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 21:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2556899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantstarlight/pseuds/distantstarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John wakes up the morning after a particularly fine party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halloween Hangover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Madamegoethe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madamegoethe/gifts).



> My darling friend had an amazing weekend and required a bit of fluff to recuperate to. This fic is the result.

[Reading Johnlock](http://media.tumblr.com/abcf26fc85919723ee4be063f14e36d1/tumblr_inline_n5atgugiIM1rpvccz.gif)

 

It was horrible waking up. John peeled himself off of his bed, the remnants of his costume still stuck to parts of him, his pants conspicuously gone, his mouth dry and tacky, and his head pounding. If being so hung-over that death was looking like a good option then it was fair to say John Watson was not prepared to find his one-off party shag still in his bed nor was he prepared to see who he’d taken home and then had dirty, filthy, biting, scratching sex with.

It was Sherlock and he looked like some kind of Sherriff. Oh no. No, not _The Rick m_ anoeuvre! _John hadn’t fallen for that stale old_ gambit _had he?_ Well, clearly he had. John looked again and panicked.

Sherlock _fucking-married-to-my-work_ Holmes was definitely sprawled out in John’s bed, arse up, scratch marks down his back, and a smug self-satisfied expression that made John want to retch even though the man was asleep. _How had he ended up in bed with Sherlock?_

John looked around desperately. There wasn’t a condom in sight and, now that he was able to focus on different body parts, John realized his behind was killing him. Gingerly he reached back and winced. He was sore and a bit swollen, still tacky with lube and what was most likely semen. _Oh, fucking hell, no. He'd had gotten drunk and then had unprotected anal sex with Sherlock ex-junkie mad-scientist Holmes_.

_Oh no._

_Oh no no no._

_Oh no no no no no no no no no_.

John jumped out of bed. Sherlock’s bed. _He was in Sherlock’s bed. Oh no. No this was not happening. No this was a nightmare_. This was the worst possible thing to ever ever ever happen to John ever.

John stumbled to the kitchen. His mobile was on the floor and with a pained groan he picked it up. There was a message flashing on it. It was Harry. She’d sent some kind of emoji, was that a farting turtle? _Oh god no. The family dinner. THE family dinner where Harry was bringing Clara back after their reconciliation, oh god, he had to leave in less than an hour!_ John ran to the bathroom, was briefly ill, jumped into the shower to wash everywhere as hard and as fast as he could then stepped out to shave at the sink, the mirror foggy with steam. John smeared shaving cream everywhere, took a hand-towel and wiped the mirror off.

There was a massive purple and red love bite high on his neck. It was right over his jugular, too brilliant to be missed, swollen and obvious even if John knew some way of covering it up. _Oh for fuck’s sake what else could go wrong? What had Sherlock been thinking to mark him like that? It looked like he’d tried to take John’s head off via suction?_

John noticed other love-bites trailing down his chest and one very telling one near his hip-bone. _Bloody hell! Had Sherlock gone down on him?_ John didn’t remember and for the first time since he woke up, he felt regret for his lack of recall. John swallowed down two paracetamols, shaved quickly, and crept up to his room to dress. He was just shoving his feet into his shoes when he heard Sherlock wake up groaning in pain. Grabbing his coat John fled the flat, desperate to get away before he had to see Sherlock face to face.

John spent the train-ride to his parent’s home piecing together the night before. He could remember going to the Halloween party. He remembered Sherlock showing up late in the evening, well after John and Greg had a drinking contest, and before they’d talked Sherlock into a best-out-of-three drink-off. After that, things went blurry and then black entirely, but the throbbing from John’s behind was proof that he hadn’t just had a refreshing nap with his flatmate.

Harry was never going to let John live this down. The trip was too short and soon enough he was at the station and hailing a cab. He got there just in time for pre-dinner greetings. Harry stared and him and then a huge leer spread across her face, “Who was she?” she chortled and John felt sick. Harry hooted, “Oh ho! Who was _he_ then?”

“You wouldn’t know him,” said John instantly and winced. He couldn’t lie. He just couldn’t. There was something about his face that let absolutely everyone know he was fibbing.

“Oh my god, John! You didn’t! _You_ _did!_ Clara, get in here!” Harry grabbed John by the chin and looked at the huge mark, “For crying out loud John, what, are you, twelve? Who does this?” Harry reached over to the coat-rack and pulled out her purse, Clara was just coming over as Harry covered the hickey with concealer. John had never been so grateful to be a twin; their skin-tone was exactly the same.

“Hullo, John.” John adored Clara and had hen-pecked his twin endlessly until she’d mended her ways and made up with her. Clara was blonde and sweet, her mouth merry and her eyes bright as she looked her brother-in-law over, “Oh John, you didn’t!”

“He did! He finally did.” reported Harry with glee, “John finally shagged Sherlock.”

“No, I didn’t!” protested John. T _echnically he hadn’t. His arse was definitely aching so he’d been the one who’d gotten bent over and fucked, not Sherlock. Harry didn’t need to know that._

Harry didn’t need to be told. “Oh Johnny boy, we are going out after this, and you are telling us _everything_.”

John was never going back to Baker Street ever again so his evening was pretty much free. He needed a stiff drink too, even if Harry was going to be there. Clara would be with them and even though it would be rude John needed a shot of something to help him deal with last night.

Dinner was pleasant enough, John’s parents were distracted with Clara. They’d missed her while she’d been separated from Harry and eagerly chatted with her while John nursed both his hangover and his regrets. _How would he deal with Sherlock now? How could he have been so weak? Sherlock didn’t do sex! John had to have been the aggressor! Oh god, he was probably a rapist!_

 _Was that possible?_ John mulled it over and decided he just felt awful about everything. _He should probably enjoy his time with his family. Once Mycroft found out John had molested his baby brother John was probably going to disappear off the face of the earth, never to be seen again, at least, not all in one piece_.

It seemed too soon before they were kissing their elders goodnight, mom and dad went to bed very early now so Harry just stuffed John into the back of their vehicle and Clara drove them to their favourite nightclub,  _Pia’s_.

Harry was good about letting John have a drink though she and Clara both had non-alcoholic beverages. John had a shot of whiskey straight up and ordered a second before he was prepared to face Harry’s interrogation. Clara pulled John tight to her, Harry squeezed her face beside her wife’s and Clara snapped off a selfie. John looked mildly stunned in it but Clara emailed it to someone anyway.

John hoped Harry never met Mycroft because she was ruthless. Clara ran an adult toy-shop so Harry was well versed in a multitude of options that she and her wife educated John about. Clara shocked him about an hour into their serious debate about glass vs silicon dildos and butt plugs, and which were the most laudable points between shagging a man vs a woman because everyone at the table was bi-sexual though Harry and Clara both had always tended strongly toward women, as had John, “You know people on the internet write about you and your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“That’s not what the internet says.” With a devilish grin, Clara pulled out her mobile and deftly did a search, “Look, this is the key-word _Johnlock_ , go ahead, look.” John looked. _What the buggery fuck! Were people writing fan-fiction about his blog? Why were so many rated E?_ “There are pictures too.” said Clara who was enjoying herself a little too much. She plucked her mobile out of John’s fingers and pulled up a series of incredibly graphic pictures of John and Sherlock having sex in every conceivable way. Some of them looked real! For some reason, John was wearing red pants in most of them, well the ones where he was wearing anything at all, or when Sherlock wasn’t the one in the red pants. John gaped. He had no idea this was happening.

John couldn’t help making a mental list of all the positions and kinks that were displayed. _He had a lot of those things at the flat already; Sherlock was into experimentation wasn’t he?_ John shook his head, he couldn’t think like that! _Sherlock was asexual, or gay, or something that didn’t involve sticking his dick in John’s ass!_

Harry kept talking about things that could go in John’s ass! His sister would not let up! “Listen, Johnny, come by Clara’s, we’ll fix you up with a starter set for plugs. If you’re going to bottom it’s probably a good idea.” Clara nodded encouragingly and John flushed deeply.

“Thanks, Harry but I don’t need butt-plugs, and I don’t need to see people’s ideas about how Sherlock and I live together. We’re friends, just friends.”

“Stop lying to yourself, John. Sherlock hates people but he lives with you! He never goes out except for work but last night he dressed up as your favourite character from your favourite show and took you home with him! You’re this man’s only friend, you’ve said so yourself a hundred times. How do you think he feels about you John to go through this much effort? How are you so thick? You’re a doctor. Sherlock wants to be your boyfriend and you want to be his. Stop being such a girl and go get him.”

“ _You’re_ a girl!” said John angrily.

“And my balls are still bigger than yours. I crawled back to Clara and grovelled. I _grovelled_. Ask her.”

“She did. It was pretty impressive.” said Clara, “Listen, John, you’ve been living with Sherlock for years. For years we’ve listened to you talk about him like he’s the centre of your universe. What’s so terrible about finally taking the next step together? Even from here we can see he wants it. He wants you.”

“How do you know?” demanded John who was still feeling a bit touchy.

Clara smiled, “Because he texted me earlier worried about you and now he’s here behind you, look John. Look at his face.”

John turned around slowly and looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, there was Sherlock, standing by the club entrance and looking nervous and out-of-place. His eyes fixed on John’s and John could see it, he could see everything. Sherlock did want John, he wanted him so much he’d done all those things, abandoned his dignity, and followed John across England to see him. John realized he was smiling and that Sherlock was shyly smiling back. Harry poked him in the back, “Go on then, go see your boyfriend.”

“Thanks, ladies,” said John distantly. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Sherlock, weaving his way through the club until he stood right in front of his flatmate, “Hey.”

“Hello, John. Clara was kind enough to send me the address.”

“So you weren’t just in the neighbourhood?” teased John.

Sherlock smiled, “I’ve been on the train for nearly an hour and had to take two different cabs to get here, so no, I came for you.”

“Why would you do that Sherlock?” asked John, his voice and eyes soft and inviting.

Sherlock stepped forward and pulled John gently to his chest, “I think you know why John.”

“I’m not really good at the whole seeing and observing thing, that’s really your area. You might need to spell it out,” said John who leaned in a tiny bit closer.

“Very well John,” Sherlock leaned down and pecked John on the mouth then whispered, “I-l-o-v-e-y-o-u John.”

John was smiling hugely. Sherlock looked both shy and bold, and his long thin arms wrapped tight around John who decided that holding his boyfriend similarly was a fine idea. “I love you too Sherlock. I love you too.”


End file.
